


Buddy Cop Blocked

by spooked



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Brett loves Mason, Getting Together, Liam will redeem himself, M/M, Miscommunication, Really fluffy, This seems long but I promise it is not, Werewolves, i like this one because of all the emotions, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooked/pseuds/spooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mason was having a pretty bad day, until he wasn't. It's all thanks to Brett and the not-so-secret he didn't plan on telling.</p><p>“If you decided to walk home I would've been right there with you……me holding the umbrella though because you're short.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buddy Cop Blocked

Liam's eyes were glued to his phone for the eighth time this period. 

Mason could hear the muffled whistle it made from Liam's pocket every time a new message came in and clumsily, Liam would claw it out of his jeans to type a reply.

Apparently something pretty intense was going down right in the middle of homeroom. Mason would soon enough come to realize that supernatural bullshit didn't care what time of day it was.

“Dude,” Mason whispered, leaning across the aisle. “What's going on?”  
Liam barley spared him a glance. He was too busy alternating his glare between the door, his phone screen, and Mrs. Turner to notice the look on Mason's face. 

“Another one of those rejects is loose. Scott needs my help finding it."

Mason's eye's widened. He was suddenly assaulted by the memory of Lucas, and consequently Lucas's scorpion sting. It wasn't the kind of intensity he had been hoping for on his night out.

“Again? What kind is it this time, ” he nearly hissed under his breath at his squirming best friend.

Liam's arm shot up. He waved it impatiently above his head instead of answering Mason's question. 

Mason tried not to be annoyed by it. He had learned pretty early on in his introduction into the supernaturally inclined that Scott McCall and his inner circle had a tendency to get involved, they were like the unofficial werewolf police squad (considering that only Scott and Liam were actual wolves) of Beacon Hills and since Mason's best friend had been taken under Scott's wing, he was involved too.

“Yes, Mr. Dunbar?" Mrs. Turner sighed. She wasn't so oblivious as to miss Liam's endless fidgeting from the middle of her classroom.

“Can I go to the bathroom? It's an emergency. " Liam blurted, hand slapping the face of his desk.

Mrs. Turner raised a single sharp eyebrow at him but remained unimpressed. “An emergency." She mimicked. “I don't doubt it."

“Can I go?”

“Class is over in ten minutes. I suggest you return in five." She said sternly.

Liam, who'd been slacking on replies all day, shoots out of the room without so much as a 'thank you'.

 

“Hey, wait up!" Mason yells. He'd asked to be excused not a moment after Liam and got the same speech. That much was fine with Mason, he just wanted to watch out for his best friend…and maybe see something cool.

“Mason, why'd you leave class?" 

Liam was headed out the front door when he finally caught up to him. 

“I'm going to help you, duh."

“Its too dangerous this time. What if we do find the thing and you get hurt? Hum? You know you don't heal the way I do. You know that."

"I won't get hit then." Mason said stubbornly. He knew it was a loosing battle. The cons were stacked against him and Liam was the one with the puppy dog eyes. Mason had to rely on his logic in arguments, and even that went against him at the moment.

“Mason please just go back to class, I don't have time to argue. I'll make it up to you later. " He promised, though Mason wasn't sure what he would be making up for. Was it leaving him out of the action, or doubting his abilities - as human as they were? Who knows. 

That phrase had become common enough in their friendship to accumulate too many translations.

“Alright, fine." Mason decided, feeling defeated. He wasn't overly keen on having the opportunity to be gutted by the monster of the hour, but he did appreciate the suspenseful mystery of the hunt. 

They lived in Beacon Hills, though. Mason knew the chance would present itself again. “Go, be safe." He said finally, waving off Liam's retreating thumbs up. The dork.

 

Mason did go back to class, but he didn't exactly feel good about doing it. There was a time when he and Liam did everything together, but lately it wasn't the same. Some part of him rationalized that back then they never faced the same odds, though he still felt like he was being replaced by werewolf shenanigans and mortal terror. That kind of thing really does a number on a guy's self esteem. 

He doubted even 'studying' on the bleachers during lacrosse practice could make him feel much better, though he was willing to give it a try. That was until he took a good look up, realized what was going on above his head. 

The sky was practically being swallowed by fat gray clouds. They rolled in slowly, but with a purpose. 

Mason wanted nothing to do with that. 

He made a very sharp about face and turned his back on the lacrosse field. If he ran, maybe he could make the bus.

“Mason, hey!”

He was jogging towards the parking lot. Cars were continuously pulling in and out while students fled as fast as possible. It was chaotic as always, but less so without the buses squeezing their way through the traffic. 

Mason cursed himself for being so absentminded. He'd missed them all. Now he'd have to walk in the rain, or wait hours for his dad to pick him up. Neither was a good option.

“Mason!" He heard then and startled, neck craning towards his name. Brett was striding towards him, or at least what seemed like strides to someone who only stood at eye level to his chest. 

Mason would always be impressed by Brett's height and silently wondered about the thrill he got whenever Brett loomed above him and stared down, forcing Mason to blink up at him to grin, as he did then under the threat of a downpour. 

“Hey," Mason exclaimed, equally surprised and delighted to see him. “You're here for practice?” 

“Yeah. I was," Brett said dismissively. He looked too concerned for the smile he was trying to give Mason. “But something's going on. Why were you pouting?"

“I wasn't pouting." Mason lied, frowning in a way that quickly became another pout. “ Children pout and I'm not…..a child."

“Uh-huh," Brett agreed. He didn't try to pretend that his smile wasn't teasing. 

Mason wasn't really in the mood for it. “What's so funny?" He huffed.

Brett rolled his eyes and very deliberately reached between the small space separating them to take Mason's cheek in his hand. He lifted Mason's chin and smoothed over the stubborn pout in his lower lip until he was biting on it, teeth kneading the flesh under Brett's thumb. 

“You shouldn't lie," Brett mused. “As if I couldn't see this from across the lot."

Mason felt warm all of a sudden, and confused. Brett was casual with his affections in the same way he wasn't, it made him hard to read. Mason decided a long time ago that he wouldn't pant after the werewolf over small things like this, even though they made his heart feel like it wanted out of his chest. They were supposed to be friends after all….

“I don't like to complain." Mason mumbled, seeing no escape from Brett's concern. He had only waited, and Mason caved. Maybe they were both stubborn, but Brett was patient too.

“Scott's pack is chasing after another Chimera….thing. So Liam's gone to help sniff it out and I- as glamorous as I am- will go home and do chemistry homework because that's a totally useful thing to do while your best friend is in mortal danger." Mason heaves a sigh. “But it's not like I'd be any help in fight anyway, not against teeth and claws and whatever else. Not a fighter like you." He said gesturing widely.

Brett scoffed, but Mason could tell he was flattered by the way he suddenly found standing still too difficult. “That's ridiculous,” He'd said, rocking on his heels. “Liam tells me how much you help almost constantly. He's all, ‘Well Mason said' or ‘Mason found out' or ‘Mason thinks'. They'd be lost without you, that's clear. ” 

Brett furrowed his brow, taking on a more serious stance as he continued, “And I know first hand that you're not useless in a fight. You kept my guts from spilling out my side for like 10 minutes until I could heal. I still haven't thanked you properly for that by the way."

Mason felt his ears heat up. “It's no big deal." He stammered. It was a big deal, though. It was a big deal to both of them because they both knew without a hint of insecurity that anything Mason does for Brett, Brett would do for Mason and that truth came about too gradually and definitely for either of them to deny.

“Does Liam really talk about me that much?" Mason wondered. 

“He does, but only when he's not ‘complaining' about Hayden."

Mason laughed. “Yeah, tell me about it, " Liam never cared about being subtle, he wears his heart on his sleeve. A skill Mason could definitely appreciate.

Just then thunder clapped overhead and Mason flinched under the mounting threat of downpour. The sky was getting nastier by the minute and what he thought was only rain could turn out to be a storm. 

“I have to go. ” He decided. 

“You're leaving? But you always stay for practice. ”

“I know, I know. I have to start walking now if I'm going to make it home before I drown.” Mason regretfully began inching away from Brett, who could easily keep Mason in his orbit if he only knew.

The clouds burst, and a shower of rain came down. An unyielding blanket of water. 

“Perfect,” Mason seethed as his clothes soaked through and screaming high school students ran for cover all around the. He looked up at Brett, who didn't seem fazed beyond a mild annoyance at his rapidly flattening hair, which was falling into his eyes. He casually ran his fingers through it. Mason felt like crying. That kind visual was a torture and a blessing. “I don't remember crossing any black cats, ” He mumbled.

Brett hiked his lacrosse bag over his shoulder and a determined expression came over him. He took Mason by the bicep and led him away from the school, towards the lot. Mason was too busy trying to keep the water out of his eyes to do much complaining about being dragged along.

“Oh, I'm in your SUV,” Mason observed after the pelting suddenly stopped. He heard the heavy door shut on the cushy interior and blinked away the clear the droplets clinging to his eyelashes.

“Here, put this on,” he heard from his left.  
Brett was watching him patiently. He held a sweater between them, it was the same maroon as Brett's uniform and had a Devenford insignia stitched onto the back. It was soft when Mason took it. 

“Thanks. ”

Brett's smile was pleased, “No problem. ”

“What about you?” Mason asked, focusing on unbuttoning his shirt. He didn't see Brett's shrug, or the unwavering appreciation in his eyes.

“I don't get hypothermia. ” Brett muttered his reply as if speaking too loudly would spook Mason, who was too busy trying to navigate his limbs through the over sized top to notice Brett's less than platonic staring.

“That's true,” Mason laughed when he finally found his way out. He slid his arms through the sleeves and crossed them snugly over his chest. “Though I doubt I'll get it either. ” 

Brett wasn't so sure about that, he knew how fragile humans could be. He wasn't taking any chances with this one. 

Mason was beside him practically radiating contentment, and while he was smaller by nature, curling up in Brett's too big hoodie practically dramatized it. Hints of bronze peaked from the drooping collar and teased, their scents mixed turning Mason's already favorable one more familiar, he looked soft. Brett felt intoxicated.

“Alright, we better go,” he hurried to announce. Sitting there drooling over Mason was fun, but counter productive. 

Brett keyed the ignition and the console came to life, buttons glowed and displays flashed. The engine was silent, but steady and confident unlike his own skipping heartbeat. 

“You're driving me home?” Mason asked. 

Brett glanced at him warily, afraid he'd overstepped. He couldn't read Mason's expression. If this was some kind of invisible line he wasn't supposed to cross, he didn't know. Brett held his breath. “If that's okay with you, ” he replied.

Mason paused. There was a part of him that wanted to argue. He was too proud for favors, sometimes up to a fault. But there was another part of him - the part that trusted Brett and sought after him - that made up his mind.

“I really owe you for this one, Brett. ” Mason replied finally. “Thank you.”

There was a physical exhale, where all the pent up butterflies were released onto the rain fogged windows, then Brett scoffed. “You don't owe me anything,” He said. “I do what I want. ”

“I know. I'm just saying, you do a lot for my sake and never expect anything in return. It's giving me a prince complex. ”

“A prince?” Brett mused, playing the word on his tongue. “Sounds about right. ”

Mason glanced at him, his smile was small and confused. “What do you mean? ” He asked distractedly, he had found the seat warmers and practically curled up in the chair as he toyed with the buttons. 

And maybe that was the answer - however unsung. It was how Mason commanded his space, how he made a situation better whether he was there or not because his wisdom carried, and how he sacrificed because he cared. He was the definition of royalty, in way that meant so much more than blood.

“I don't know. Maybe that's just how I see you,” Brett admitted. “There's no complex. ”

Gradually, that seemed to get the entirety Mason's attention. The ferocity of his gaze made Brett want to squirm, but there was nowhere to run and Brett didn't really care for hiding.

“Brett,” Mason began carefully, as if he was poking a sleeping wolf. “Do you have a crush on me?”

Brett slowly shook his head, “It's more than that. ”

“How so?”

“I don't think you understand. ” He was silent for a moment. Probably to collect thoughts.

“Devenford is a prep school. It has it's own lacrosse field,” He explained. “It's perfectly fine, and my team's there. ”

“Yeah.” Mason couldn't say he understood where Brett was going with this. Not yet at least.

“Yet I practice at Beacon almost every week because you study on the bleachers. Hell, sometimes I don't even practice. Did you notice that?”

Mason nodded mutely. He didn't feel it was the time to voice comments, not when Brett was confessing to him. So he sat awestruck, a little bit smug, chest tight, and listened as Brett barreled on. “I was only keeping tabs on the McCall pack in Satomi's interest. And now I do it because if something were to happen to you because of their bullshit I'd never forgive them for it. I know it upsets you when you don't feel included but…. sometimes I feel even worse when you are. ”

“I think that's a lot more than a crush Brett,” Mason breathed. He felt too big for his skin and altogether too small in Brett's sweatshirt. He realized he was hot, too. It was what children must feel before a tantrum, more emotion that body. 

They came to a dead stop in the empty driveway of Mason's home. It was just as stacked and intimidating as Brett remembered. The ride was over. He turned the engine off, slumped heavily against his seat, and closed his eyes. 

Mason saw the sad look in them anyway. 

“You never planned on telling me, did you? ”

Brett slowly shook his head. Mason wondered if he was in shock. He had just confessed something huge, but sat silently as if he'd lost. 

Mason understood then what defeat looked like on Brett. He had never seen such an expression on him, not even with a six inch gash across his abdomen and blood leaking out between his fingers. Mason hated that look, almost as much as he hated being it's cause.

“Come in with me?” He blurted suddenly, startling Brett to attention again. Mason wanted so badly to right whatever wrong made Brett believe that he wasn't wanted. Mason wanted every part, and every counterpart of Brett. He wasn't afraid, and he felt the need to prove it.

“Are you sure?” Brett was confused by Mason's reaction, and his confession made him timid. Mason knew that wouldn't last. He had to take advantage of the situation if he was going to keep his courage. 

“Of course,” Mason smiled. “You'll want your sweatshirt back won't you?” 

And Brett may not have bought that as his honest motivation, he may have been skeptical, but Mason was already running through the rain to his porch and Brett….Brett followed because he never could stay away in the first place.

 

“I'll get you a towel or something,” Mason declared as he locked the front door behind them, banishing the cold wet air outside. 

He lead Brett into the living room - mostly just an open space at the center of the house with high ceilings and heavy drapes - and told him to make himself comfortable before taking off upstairs.

Brett practically sunk into the sofa. With his head resting against it's back he let his eyes shut again. Stress clouded his thoughts, he was tired suddenly. 

When Mason approached, Brett watched him passively. He had the promised towel in one hand and a determined look in his eyes. 

When Mason breathed in to collect his words, Brett blurted an apology before he had even gotten a syllable past his lips. He swallowed his speech, frowning curiously.

“Why are you sorry?” He asked, and with one knee bracketing Brett's for support, Mason caged him in and gently began to towel off his dripping wet hair. 

“Because…” Brett sighed. His train of thought escaped him, he'd rather Mason continue what he was doing than have to explain himself. “You probably didn't want to hear all that from me-”

“But I'm glad you feel this way, ” Mason said, cutting him off. He spoke so casually, and as calm as he could. He said it with the same factual confidence that lived in every honest word Mason spoke. Brett couldn't believe it was a lie for a second. He didn't need to listen to a heartbeat to know the truth. It was always there.

Brett stared up at him in amazement. “You're glad?” He questioned, feeling greedy for more. He wanted to hear something explicit. He wanted the dirty details of Mason's thoughts about him. He wanted to share, he wanted to see if they had any mutual ideas. 

It was a lot to take in. Brett had no idea he could get so much out of so little from Mason. One little confession, and he was electrified. He wondered if the sky was opening up above him, he wondered if something shifted under the earth. He braced both hands on Mason's hips, probably grinning like an fool as he rocked him playfully back and forth. “What does that mean, exactly? Glad,” he teased.

Mason rolled his eyes, and let the towel drop across Brett's shoulder's. “Just what I said. It makes me happy. ”

“Because….” Brett prompted, we wasn't backing down now that he knew he could get what he wanted. 

“Oh, so now your gonna be cocky?” Mason challenged. “I remember a kicked puppy from like two minutes ago what happened to him?”

“You haven't seen kicked puppy yet, Mason. You will though, if you don't tell me what I want to hear. ” Brett didn't want to push Mason, he'd tried not to. But they'd come too far for either of their stubborn attitudes to hold them back. It was time.

Mason bit his lip and looked away, as if there was anything on the wall worth looking at. The intensity of Brett's eyes were too much for him sometimes, especially then, when he had to put his feelings on the line and Brett watched him like he saw everything, the emotions and the fears.

“I think you know this already, ” Mason mumbled, feeling embarrassed for nothing more than his inability to just spit it out.

Brett shook his head. He wouldn't accept that answer. “I don't know. That's why you need to talk to me. ” His hands had found their way under his sweatshirt, and the cool pads of his fingers rubbed along Mason's hipbones in encouragement.

Mason clenched his jaw. Distracting. 

“I was going to say, ‘I like you.’ ”

Brett raised an eyebrow. “Why don't you then?”

Mason wanted this to be right. He was a perfectionist at heart. “I don't really think ‘I like you’ fits, ” he admonished. “Not for this, if that's what you planned on hearing. I mean, I like lazy Saturdays. I like free Wi-Fi. I like shrimp fried rice but- ”

“This sounds like a tinder profile. ” 

“Shut the f- let me finish, ” Mason insisted.

“Sorry. ”

“ ’Supposed to be romantic and you're ruining it. ” He sighed. It was too late for the speech, he'd lost his momentum. In theory, he could just be upfront about this, like without all the theatrics and clichés. That would have to do.

“The point was that ‘like’ isn't a strong enough word to describe how I feel about you. ” 

Mason saw Brett's smirk and steeled himself. “You want the truth, right?” He asked. 

Brett nodded. “Always. ”

“I absolutely adore you, I do. Falling for you like I did was probably the easiest thing in my life this year. ” Mason laughed, but it was unsure. “Probably the scariest, too. You know I've never loved someone like you? I've never felt this way. I don't know how to cope with it. I want to do all these things with you, the fun stuff and the cute stuff and the really fun stuff. But it's- I mean look around you. It's dangerous to be in love in Beacon Hills…….. and fuck if not scared for the both of us. ”

Mason would've said more, he would've poured his heart out because he was afraid that Brett would never know if he didn't, but he couldn't keep it up over the tears burning his eyes and his ragged breathing stunting his words.

Brett was on him in a second, rubbing his back and gently hushing Mason's hiccuping cries.

“I'm sorry, ” Mason said, trying to recover before his tears could get messy.

Brett shook his head. “I'm glad you told me. ” He pulled them both down until they sat face to face on the couch and wiped away a stray tear's path down Mason's cheek. “I'm scared too, you know. ” He admitted. 

Mason stared up at him with wide searching eyes. “Are you?” he asked, and Brett knew he could never lie to him.

“I am. More often for you know, ” he whispered. “But does that does mean we shouldn't get to have what we want?” 

Mason shook his head, thinking hard about Brett's words. He bit on his lip and looked away from him, trying to find the answer in the walls again.

This was not about a solution, though. Brett couldn't wait for him to find an answer that was never there. “Tell me what you're thinking,” he pleaded, trying to get Mason out of his own head.

“What am I thinking?” Mason mimicked, amused by the question. He suddenly moved to sit on his legs, and facing each other the way that they were, Mason and Brett were the same height. “I'm thinking I wanna stop thinking. Can I kiss you?” 

He asked so politely and sweetly. Brett leaned in enough for the both of them, crowding so close that Mason was forced to tilt his head up as Brett coaxed him into opening into the kiss. He did enthusiastically, with selfish strokes of his own and one hand clenched possessively in the towel around Brett's throat.

Brett cradled Mason's cheek in his palm, trying to keep him close as he dissolved into delighted little giggles between their shared breaths.

“What's so funny?” Brett questioned as Mason tried to kiss along the sharp angle of his jaw. 

“It's nothing,” He said. “Just glad I let you drive me home. ”

“Mason, if you decided to walk home I would've been right there with you……me holding the umbrella though because you're short. ”

\----------------

**Author's Note:**

> You liked it? Comment! I wanna hear it, I promise.


End file.
